


Fire Under My Skin

by snezh09



Series: Under My Skin [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Baggage, Ian Gallagher Loves Mickey Milkovich, Ian and Mickey are totally all right and back together, Ian/others - Freeform, M/M, Mickey Milkovich Loves Ian Gallagher, Past Relationship(s), Self-Reflection, Sexual Content, and wants him more than he ever wanted anyone else in his life, but only as a memory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 15:20:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17490404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snezh09/pseuds/snezh09
Summary: An add-on to "Under My Skin" story (Chapter 27). A one-shot piece exploring Ian's thoughts about sexuality, past partners and Mickey.Can be easily read as a stand alone as well, I guess, as long as you ignore first and last paragraphs.Now, that he and Mickey are together, it is easy to admit – what he and Mickey have ... it’s magic, the kind that he can never achieve with anyone else.





	Fire Under My Skin

**Author's Note:**

> We all know that Ian and Mickey love each other. But it's not only that - they push each other's buttons sexually in a very unique way. I wanted to explore it from Ian's perspective.

 

***

For a while after their experiment, Mickey’s words stay with him:

“I’m not here with other people, I’m here with you. You like fucking me, I like when you fuck me?”

It is more than _like_ , of course. They are as fucking spectacular with each other as they’ve always been. He and Mickey has always just matched perfectly - simple as that.

Ian thinks about it, even talks about with Dr Foster, albeit a bit shyly (she looks like she’s someone’s grandma, for God’s sake!).

Now, that he and Mickey are together, it is easy to admit – what he and Mickey have ... it’s magic, the kind that he can never achieve with anyone else.

 

 

***

He’s eleven when he realizes that he’s different. The kind of porn that Lip stashes under his pillow - girls with big boobs and wide hips - does absolutely nothing for him. He likes to linger in the locker room after Little League games and watch his fellow classmates change. And Justin Timberlake features in his wet dream frequently.

He denies it at first. Tries to be normal. Pretends he’s in love with a girl. It doesn’t work. 

He accepts it then, finds porn that appeals to him and hides it behind the dresser. Comes to term with very much never getting laid in his life. He lives in the Southside, after all, and he’ll ever find anyone like himself.

 

***

Roger Spikey is his first. Ian is fourteen, perpetually horny and deeply closeted. Roger is 2 years his senior, not that much more experienced, at least when it comes to dudes, and even more closeted. Ian can’t remember how they notice and even have courage to approach each other. 

They tumble together awkwardly in the cleaning supply closet, both without a clue on what to do with their hands or mouths or any other body parts. Roger’s got a donkey dick, but he doesn’t know what to do with it precisely - just stands there barely moving and blows his load in 2 minutes. He’s a bit of an asshole about the entire thing too.

Ian doesn’t care much - he gets to stick his dick into a living person for the first time in his life and, fuck, he finally gets what all the fuss is about. And, he’s a bit overwhelmed with the knowledge that there are other gay people on the Southside.

 

***

Sex with Kash is soft and gentle, just like the man himself. He likes to make love slowly and tenderly, his warm dark eyes gazing at Ian helplessly, his soft hands touching him almost reverently. He often tears up afterwards. Ian believes they are in love. 

That summer Ian starts working at the Kash and Grab store, the redhead’s over the moon. It’s a great job - reliable pay check, decent hours, the store is clean, and he likes working with customers. He’s a bit terrified of Linda, but Kash is nice - always smiling, gently spoken, mild-mannered. He listens to Ian’s stories and always asks about his day. Ian’s got 5 siblings, his mother’s done a runner and his dad’s a fucking drunk. There are few people, who are want to know how his day went.  

And after a while, Ian notices the way Kash’s gaze travels up his body when he’s stocking shelves or how his touch lingers on his shoulder when they brush next to each other accidentally. It only takes one slow afternoon, no customers around and a particularly hot day to... 

Kash is a far cry from Roger Spikey. He’s a man, first of all, mature, more experienced, happy to guide Ian. Kash teaches him things. 

Ian likes sex. He’s good at it, too.

And Ian believes they are in love -  tragically, passionately in love. So, what if he sometimes gets a little bit... frustrated with how much Kash guides him; with how they never experiment; with how much everything they do is always on Kash terms - slow, gentle, soft, unchallenging... His wet dreams are filled with shadowy images of something... stronger, more brutal, more forceful. 

He doesn’t know what exactly he’s dreaming of until he finds himself pressed to the bed by a certain thug, a crowbar raised over his head...

 

***

He’s scared out of his mind, breathing heavily, hyped up by the fight. The body pressing him down feels brutally unrelenting, a sheer force radiating from it. To his utter horror half of his blood is already rushing downwards and he’s terrified that besides getting beaten up he’s going to get exposed by Mickey Milkovich of all people, that fucking terrorizing thug... 

The moment his eyes lock with Mickey’s it’s like a fucking supernova. Ian has one split-second thought “Shit, he’s so beautiful!” before he notices that he’s not the only one hard. 

And then they are moving in unison, fast, desperate, strong and it’s like... It’s like their bodies just _know_ each other. The way they grab at each other’s clothes, the feel of Mickey’s hands on Ian’s skin, his smell, the quiet breathy sounds he makes. It’s so excitingly novel and yet so strangely _comfortable_... 

Mickey’s hands are rough and callous and there is no finesse in his touch, but they leave Ian’s skin on fire. And the way Mickey reacts to Ian’s own hands ... the way he arches into them unabashedly, eagerly... Jesus, Ian never thought that human’s body can be that fucking expressive. 

They don’t say a single word to each other, barely look into each other’s eyes, and yet there is no hesitation - not in the way Ian jumps on top of him, not in the way Mickey tosses a bottle of lube his way, not in the way Mickey lets Ian to unceremoniously tag at his hips to turn him around. 

Ian’s never ever wanted to sink his dick into another person as much as he wants to sink it in Mickey right now. And once he does... they fit together like they were made for each other, they move as if they rehearsed it for their entire lives. 

Mickey’s hips snap up to meet his -  abrupt, unbalanced, no softness in the movement - and fuck it’s accelerating that there is no need to hold his own passion back. 

Ian’s never ever been as turned on in his entire life. There is many “ _never felt that way before_ ” that happen in that tiny cluttered room.

Afterwards he feels almost concussed, like he got hit in the head one too many times. In those few moments of peace they get before Mickey’s father barges into the door, only two thoughts manage to make its way into Ian’s mind.

First, that all the sex he’s ever done before apparently was shit and that’s what all the fuss is _really_ about.

Second - that he wants to do it, _again and again_ , as many times as possible. 

 

***

Kash is still there, still just as charming and soft and attentive. And yet the single though of touching him sends unpleasant shiver down Ian’s back. 

And maybe part of it is that - when he lays the recovered gun on the shop counter that night - he finally realizes that Kash really is a fucking pussy and coward. There is no hidden strength behind his softness; there is no honour behind his mild manners; there is no passion behind his warmth. He’s just a _weak_ , childlike man who cheats on his wife behind her back. And maybe Ian’s not capable of wanting a man he doesn’t respect. 

And, besides, the thought of Kash tastes like... like a fake beef patty from Costco after eating a fine steak. No flavour, no smell, no texture - just... nothing. Ian’s tasted the real thing and he has no desire to go back.

He does not think he can.

Not as long as Mickey keeps dropping by the store every day. Not as long as a sarcastic side-look thrown his way makes him get an erection in 30 seconds. No as long as 10-minute quickie in dirty Milkovich bathroom feels him with so much elation that he’s willing to risk being discovered by Mandy or Mickey’s brothers or his asshole of the dad.

Not as long as he feels closer to Mickey than he’s ever felt closer to anyone in his entire life.

 

 

***

There are probably a couple of guys that happen while Mickey’s in juvie for the first time - he’s 16, after all, and he misses Mickey and he wants Lip to get off his case with constant Mickey hints.

Ian doesn’t remember their names or faces, what and where happened, whether they were good or bad - his dreams (and day dreams) are filled with only one face.

He’s gained a couple of inches in the last three months, built up a fair bit of muscle. He’s got a plan for the future. He feels more grown up and confident. He feels good in his own skin.

He’s desperate and anxious like a teenage girl to see Mickey’s reaction. To see Mickey…

And it’s... it’s like the first time all over again, like no time has passed at all. His body has changed but it still knows Mickey better than itself; still reacts to Mickey in the same way. And for the first time in four months Ian feels that familiar fire burning him from within. 

And they have more times on their hands now, more opportunities to be together, and, hell, they are using them to the fullest. 

Ian’s on fire and he wants to keep burning. 

 

***

He fucks around like crazy the second time Mickey goes away. 

He’s just turned 17, he can run ten miles without stopping, lift 50 pounds one handed and easily beat almost anybody coming his way. And he’s perpetually horny.

So, he gets a little reckless and a little impatient and he gets a bit of a reputation of being a killer in the sack, so there are plenty of gay kids in his year and his ROTC practice who are willing to risk it for the feel of his cock up their ass. 

Some are better, some are worse, and what if they move in the wrong way or smell disgusting or can’t stop talking or fail to touch him with the same balance between rough and tender or... He gets to come at the end, just the same.

And besides he discovers that sex - after fucking Monica, and fucking Thanksgiving and fucking Frank and Mickey’s words burning his eyes - he discovers that sex is a pretty good distraction. Good or bad, for a few minutes a day, he doesn’t get to be sad or angry or miss anyone. 

(It’s a lie. He misses Mickey every minute of every day).

 

***

Ned/Lloyd is old but not frail or boring. He’s fit, experienced and unapologetically confident in his sexual desires. He’s open to experiments, loves bottoming and teaches Ian more than a few tricks. He introduces Ian to fine wine and hippy lunch places, and luxury hotel rooms. It’s not all “wang-bang-thank you” – they hang out and Lloyd seems interested enough in who Ian actually is.

The problem is that sex with Lloyd is as emotionally engaging as running an obstacle course. 

Ian’s all right with it. He’s not looking for love. There is a calendar in his head, where a day gets ticked off every night, till the doors of the juvie can open.

And being with Lloyd makes Ian feel in control. Sex can give control - another new aspect he discovers and likes. Because Lloyd might be the rich and experienced one, but it’s Ian who sets the boundaries. He decides when they meet, he decides what they do.

He decides because Lloyd has hots for him and Ian doesn’t give a shit, not really. 

It’s amazing how good control can feel.

 

***

It’s summer again and Mickey’s back and Ian’s control goes out of the window the moment he hears “I fucking missed you”. 

And it’s fucking worth it. It’s worth it to feel the fire sing through his veins the moment he sinks into the warmth of Mickey’s body.

It’s as good as ever, and then it gets even better, if something so perfect _can_ get better. Because Mickey’s still rough and edgy and there is still no finesse in his movements. But he’s somehow more... _open_. His hands linger longer on Ian’s skin, he’s more eager to have no barriers between their bodies, his moans grow louder, and his arms clutch tighter. And Ian’s bolder now too, he pushes and demands and to his outer delight - Mickey starts giving back, shares his fantasies and hidden desires. Mickey kisses him... 

It’s magical and fucking hot and Ian can’t help but think that... There is no way, this sort of thing doesn’t _mean_ anything. No way that their bodies can be so in sync, their desires so attuned unless there is something... more than just physical attraction. It’s been almost two years and, still, he feels a current run through him when their eyes lock, feels concussed every time they break apart. 

Only now it’s getting harder to hold back three little words that Ian wants to blurt when they lie into each other’s arms. 

He feels like the words make their way through, regardless. The escape through the tips of his fingers when they drag along Mickey’s skin. They flow through his fucking cock as he pounds into Mickey’s body. They fly out with each breath as he pants into the sensitive skin on Mickey’s neck.

He knows how they feel with each other. He knows he’s not burning along. _Nobody can fake it_ … 

 

***

Mania is a different kind of fire. It burns without relief, bringing destruction in its way. There are... bodies, actions, nights in his mind that feel good, feel amazing. Everything feels amazing for a while - brighter, more beautiful. 

Everything turns hazy in his memory and irrelevant in his mind the moment Mickey’s mouth closes around his cock. 

He’s different, he tells himself staring at the cracked ceiling above his childhood bed while Mickey brings him to completion - he’s done playing by the rules, he’s done taking the bullshit, he’s the one in control, he’ll take what he wants and not an inch less, he’s...

He’s 18 years old, he’s built like a god (and he fucking knows it), he lost count of people he slept with and he - who is he kidding? - he’ll agree to burn in Hell forever if only Mickey keeps kissing him like that. 

 

***

He doesn’t know how it can get better, but it fucking does. Because the magic their bodies created together in the dirty dugouts and storage rooms and abandoned buildings - it’s nothing compared to the magic they create on a double bed in that clattered room. Where he finally, finally, gets Mickey entirely to himself - open, gloriously naked, free. Where he gets to have him not in tiny stolen moments, but constantly, every minute of every day. Where he learns that things that kill other people’s passion - loud siblings, crying babies, dirty nappies and money - none of it can touch the fire they have. 

Even his slowly returning mania, and all the dirt and destruction it brings, can’t touch it. 

 

***

Desire becomes a foreign object, something that he knows exists in theory, happens with other people. His body doesn’t feel like his own, and neither does his mind. He feels a thousand years old and colder than an iceberg. 

 

***

Caleb is all hard muscle and powerful body. It draws Ian in, that quiet strength packed in neat fancy suits and polite smiles. 

Caleb is normalcy. Dinner dates, kisses on the streets, brunches with obnoxious ex-boyfriends and cheesy notes in the lunch boxes. Ian doesn’t know how to do normalcy, but he tries his best. 

Sex with Caleb is like a carefully orchestrated performance, like a continuation of a posh date. Caleb likes ambiance - soft warm lights, aromatherapy candles, silky sheets. He prepares for sex like it’s an _event_ \- shower, five types of lube, premium condoms, nice long prep. 

His body is all hard planes and his hands are calloused, but his movements are that of an artist. He looks at Ian with open appreciation, like he’s an art piece; he touches him in the same way.

He likes to be treated the same and sometimes, when they’ve been going at it for a while, Ian has a stray thought that Caleb - with his loud moans and flowery remarks in the heat of the moment and smooth moves of his body - is  _giving_  an art performance. 

There is no hunger, no desperation in the way their bodies meet. Caleb’s touch doesn’t create a current under his skin and his eyes don’t burn him. 

That’s what normalcy feels like, Ian guesses. 

 

***

Trevor is fun and light, smouldering glances and cheeky smiles. Being with him feels like drinking a coke on a hot summer day, easy and refreshing. 

Until it’s not. 

Until suddenly there are things to consider and negotiate, new words to learn and rules to follow. Until suddenly sex becomes an  _issue_. He’s a Gallagher - he’s used to anything being an issue, except sex. 

Which is fine, Ian decides, he’s up for a challenge. He’s not a coward or a closet-minded idiot.

So, he learns and listens and negotiates. And, in the end, sex with Trevor isn’t as difficult as he expected. It’s a bit weird and fairly different and sometimes a just a tiny bit uncomfortable. There are steps required and equipment necessary, there is lots of talking.

Trevor is still fun and cheeky in bed. He doesn’t care about candles or silky sheets or lightning. He’s flexible and imaginative and outspoken. He gives killer blowjobs and has wicked fingers. He knows what he wants, and he demands it from Ian. He says “let’s do this”, “move here”, “touch me like that” and Ian follows, learns, negotiates kinks of his own. 

Trevor doesn’t pretend that Ian’s the best lay he ever had or the most beautiful man he’s shared the bed with. But he’s a good friend and they like the same music and they are both willing to compromise. Ian knows how normalcy works now after all.

And if Ian misses having another dick in bed, and if he still treats bottoming as a bit of a chore, and if sometimes he wishes he could just lose himself in the moment, instead of that constant negotiation and talking ... hey, all couples have to trade on something. 

And all in all, they manage to dance just fine. 

 

***

It’s amazing what human mind is capable of. Ian could have sworn to anybody that he’s crazily into Trevor and that they have a passionate and satisfying sex life. He could have sworn that he’s as comfortable a fulfilled as he can be. 

And yet the moment he Mickey lock mouths in the dark of the night, on the abandoned ship... it’s like he wakes from anesthesia. And suddenly he can smell and taste and move and feel. Fuck, how much he can feel... 

Mickey... They kiss and Ian’s lungs suddenly feel with air; they touch and Ian’s skin is burning even through the think material of the coat and Ian has to take it off, off, off... Has to bury his nose into Mickey’s neck; has to press as close to the brunette as possible; has to sink into the warmth of Mickey’s body.  And the way Mickey pushes against, the way he clenches and grips Ian’s hands and...

They haven’t touched each other in a year and a half. And yet, there is no hesitation, no control, no questions. They move in sync like their bodies know each other better than they know themselves. 

Ian’s on fire and he knows that he’ll never burn like that for anyone else. 

 

***

He thinks he knows what going back to Chicago means. He thinks he’s ready to sacrifice the fire for security. He thinks he’ll stop missing it soon...

He is dead wrong. 

 

***

It is so easy to think about all of it now, that he gets to have Mickey to himself, in a way that he never did before.

He thinks about the past, about all the regrets and mistakes and attempts to replace Mickey with anyone else.

He always knew deep down, that he’d fail to do it in his heart. He admits to himself that there was never a chance he’ll manage it even in his body.

And he stops being scared of the fact.

“You know” He whispers to Mickey one night, when they lie facing each other after lovemaking. His body is still being shot with currents, his head feels concussed and there is fire running under his skin “I never felt that way with anyone else. I never will”

Mickey’s hand finds his under the blanket and squeezes gently. His palm is warm.

“I know” He breathes out quietly. He's not scared either, Ian realizes. Not anymore.

   

 

**Author's Note:**

> "Under My Skin" is finished, but my brain keep coming back to these two :) I'll be probably posting short snippets, mostly reflections, some missing scenes.


End file.
